Snow Day
by LightWoman
Summary: Bad weather forces the Lightman Group to shut down for the day... of course Cal and Gillian spend it together. Just a bit of wintery fun!
1. Chapter 1

So, I'm snowed in today, and what thought came into my head? Why, to write a snowed in Callian fic, of course! Was originally going to be a one-shot but it would have ended up being really long, so I've stopped at a convenient point, and more will come soon!

**Disclaimer: None of these wonderful characters belong to me.**

Chapter One

Gillian Foster loved snow. Watching snowflakes flutter down from the snow-laden sky; the sight of trees, bare from winter but with snow clinging to their branches; looking out at streets and lawns all covered with a thick blanket of fluffy white goodness - all these things gave her a happy warm glow. True, snow could sometimes cause problems – transport issues, accidents, inconveniences. Of course, Gillian didn't like that side of it – she wanted everyone to stay safe. But there was something almost magical about the way the city would just shut down if there was heavy snow; cars stayed in driveways, lights were on in more houses, and instead of the roads being filled with drivers on their way to work or scurrying from errand to errand, you could look out and see children building snowmen, parents having snowball fights with their children, couples walking hand in hand, crunching through the snow. Yes, Gillian thought, as she looked out at the falling snow with a contented smile, wrapping her hands around her mug of steaming hot chocolate. Snow really _was _magical.

A sharp knocking at the door interrupted her thoughts. Startled, Gillian turned, wondering who had ventured out when the snow was falling this heavily; it had just started to settle, and forecasters were recommending people not go too far from home in case they couldn't get back. Placing her cup down on the coffee table, she headed towards the door, thinking perhaps it was a neighbour wanting to borrow something.

"About bloody time," her visitor said as soon as she wrenched the door open. "Bloody freezing out here. Literally. Going to invite me in, then? In case you haven't noticed, it's snowing."

"Hello Cal," she said, smiling as she stood aside to let him in. He strode in, pulling off his coat and hanging it up on her coat rack. He then proceeded to try and shake the snow out of his hair, and Gillian laughed, reaching up to help him. "What are you doing here?"

"I've closed down the office, remember?"

"Yes…" she said slowly. "So… what? You couldn't get through a Tuesday without seeing me?" she teased.

"More like I was bored to tears at home, and the prospect of being stuck there with nothing to do and no one to talk to was a bit depressing. Em's at Zoe's, so…" He shrugged. "Where else was I going to go? Loker's?" She smiled. "Besides," he continued, "if I'm going to spend the day snowed in with someone…"

He didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't have to. Gillian smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her body that wasn't to do with the joy of snow or her hot chocolate. She followed Cal as he walked into the living room and sat herself down in the armchair, picking up her hot chocolate and taking another sip. "Hot chocolate?" he guessed, sitting down on the sofa, and she nodded with a smile.

"Of course."

"Extra marshmallows?"

The smile slipped from her face. "No marshmallows, actually," she said, and Cal suppressed a laugh at the look of genuine sadness on her face. _Only Gill could be sad about bloody marshmallows_, he thought with amusement. "I ran out," she said sadly. "Still, hot chocolate on its own is good." She took another sip.

"Don't want these, then?" he asked casually, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a large bag of mini marshmallows. He watched Gillian's eyes widen in surprise and saw the delight cross her face.

"Where did you get those?"

"Passed a shop on the way, thought you might need your supplies replenished." He was being nonchalant, but was secretly thrilled that he'd been able to make her face light up like that with such a simple gesture.

"Thank you," she said, feeling ridiculously touched. She reached for the packet and ripped it open carefully, then tipped a handful into the top of her mug. Sitting back in her chair, she swirled the marshmallows around with her spoon, allowing them to melt into the hot liquid. Lifting the mug to her lips she drank deeply, closing her eyes and allowing a look of pure pleasure to cross her face.

Cal watched, intrigued. He'd seen the way she'd eaten food before, and the pleasure she took from things like chocolate, but he always underestimated the effect it had on him. At last she opened her eyes, laughing when she saw him watching her. "Sorry," she giggled. "Mmm. That's good. Definitely better with marshmallows."

"I gathered that," he commented, unable to draw his eyes away from her lips, and the thin layer of melted marshmallow there. Noticing where his gaze lay she licked her lips, removing the marshmallow, and laughed again.

"Sorry, I'm being a bad hostess. Would you like something? I have more than just hot chocolate, you know," she added, seeing him wrinkle his nose in disgust. Cal wasn't a fan of hot chocolate; "why would you want something you eat as a snack melted into a sickening, milky drink?" he always said.

"Don't suppose you've got any…"

"I have, as it happens," she said, without letting him finish his sentence, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

"How d'you know what I was going to say? I might have been going to ask if you had any lavender and honey tea or something."

She laughed. "You want cider. Dr Foster's special hot apple cider, to be precise. Yes?"

"If there's any on offer," he said, both amused and pleased that she knew him so well.

"I made a fresh batch this morning."

"Really?" That did surprise him. "You're not such a fan of it though." The question was implied, and Gillian answered it, blushing slightly.

"I made some this morning… you know. Just in case."

"Just in case," he repeated, nodding. "Smashing. Let's have some then."

Gillian put her hot chocolate down and dutifully headed towards the kitchen. Cal stayed on the sofa for a minute, then leapt up and followed her. There never seemed much point staying in a room once Gillian Foster had left it.

"You're a saint," he remarked a few minutes later as she handed him a steaming mug of hot spiced cider. The aroma was fantastic, and added to the fact that she'd made it especially for him before he even arrived on her doorstep made it even better.

"Careful you don't burn your mouth," she warned, and he smiled. Typical Gillian.

"I won't," he said, huffing at his drink to make a point. When it was cool enough to drink he took a sip, feeling the delicious warm liquid slide down his throat with wonderful ease.

"How is it?" she asked.

He smiled at her. "Perfection, Dr Foster. As always."

"Good," she said with a satisfied nod. "Want a snack to go with it?"

"Don't tell me you've been baking as well?" He chuckled, expecting her to say no and offer him a shop-bought snack, but she just smiled and reached behind her for a tin.

"Gingerbread," she confessed, lifting the lid to reveal perfectly shaped gingerbread men, complete with icing faces and buttons.

"You're mad," he said, a grin stretching across his face as he examined the details on the little confectionary figures. "A bow tie, Foster? Really?"

She giggled. "I was just experimenting with the icing. I think it's kind of cute though."

Cal reached for one of the gingerbread men with the bow tie, wondering briefly whether her baking session that morning had also been 'just in case' he paid her a visit. "Head first or feet first?"

"Whichever you like." She laughed.

"Well, it seems a bit cruel to just bite his head off."

"Because you never bite people's heads off," she teased, and her shot her a lock of mock annoyance.

"Hey! I'm a pussycat, me. You trying to suggest otherwise?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," she said smoothly as he continued to examine the gingerbread man he held between his fingers.

"On the other hand," he continued, "if I leave his head til last, he's got to bear witness to the ripping apart of the rest of his body. That's just sadistic."

"So you're not going to eat it at all?"

"Don't be daft." He swiftly bit the head off. "Mm," he said, munching on it happily. "You're right, biting the head off isn't so bad."

She smiled and reached for one of her own, although she started nibbling one of the feet first.

"Sadist!" he said, pointing an accusatory finger, and she laughed.

"Don't tell anyone. I'll never be able to keep up my nice girl image once word of this gets out."

"My lips are sealed." He devoured the rest of the gingerbread, brushing the crumbs off his hands. "Mm. Delicious. You know, coming here today really was the best decision I ever made," he joked, although there was a truth behind his words that he guessed she could see.

Gillian crossed to the window, gazing out at the snow which was now falling thicker and faster, a childlike smile of euphoria lighting up her face. "I'd forgotten how much you love snow," he said, although he hadn't. Five times since he'd known her had snow made an appearance in their lives, and each time had been accompanied by wistful looks out the window if she was stuck inside, a happy glow on her cheeks as she crunched through the snow by his side, and a blissful smile as snowflakes fell from the sky, landing in her hair and on her delicate cheeks and eyelashes. Not that Cal had noticed, really. Much.

"Let's go outside," she said suddenly, jolting him from his thoughts. He tore the mug away from his lips just as he was about to take another sip.

"Let's _what_?"

"Go outside," Gillian repeated slowly, as if talking to a four year old. She grinned at him. "Come on, it'll be fun. I always go outside when it snows. We'll wrap up warm, and make a snowman and snow angels, and then when we come back we can sit in front of the fire with hot choc- well, hot anything you want, really," she said, glancing at the mug of cider in Cal's hands. Her eyes sparkled, and there was such fervent excitement on her face, Cal couldn't say no to her. _Although when can you ever say no to this woman?_ he found himself thinking idly as he made a big show of throwing up his hands in defeat and sighing dramatically.

"Fine, if we must. But I have rules, Foster."

"Oh yes?"

"Yep. One: If my fingers start turning blue, I'm coming in. Two: You keep me well supplied with both hot spiced cider _and _gingerbread men for the duration of my stay. Three: I'm not making a snow angel. Deal?"

She grinned at him. "Yes to one and two. Maybe to three."

He opened him mouth to protest, but Gillian was already heading for the hall to retrieve her coat, hat, scarf and gloves, practically skipping as she went, and Cal followed her, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

A few minutes later they were both wrapped up warm (although Cal was still complaining he was cold) and ready to go. As Gillian's gloved hand reached for the door handle, Cal's closed over hers momentarily.

"Foster," he murmured, and she turned. "There's something I ought to warn you about before we go outside." She raised her eyebrows at him questioningly and he responded by leaning towards her so his mouth was close to her ear. Grinning, he whispered, "I'm a pretty good shot with a snowball."

Gillian let out a soft laugh, and focussed her gaze squarely on him. "Don't worry, Cal," she assured him, one hand coming to rest lightly on her hip, "so am I."


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews everyone, it's still very snowy here so inspiration remains abundant to finish this story! :-] Also, I know we saw Gillian's place in Honey and she doesn't have a front garden, but for the purposes of this story, she does ;-)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lie to Me or anything to do with it at all**

Chapter Two

Cal watched Gillian run down her front path, giggling like a small child. He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to stave off the cold that threatened to seep into his bones, but found that watching Gillian was actually a more effective way of keeping warm. She lay down in her front garden and started moving her arms, making the wings of the angel. Cal shook his head in amusement as he watched her. "Going to join me?" she asked, ceasing the movement of her arms and just lying still.

"Not a chance, love," he said with a grin.

She smiled and sat up. Stepping forwards, Cal extended an arm to her and helped her up. "So, what's next?"

"A snowman, of course," she said, heading to the other side of the path where the snow lay perfect and untouched. She hesitated for a moment.

"You start by making a ball…" Cal said, and she laughed.

"Yes, I know how to make a snowman, thanks. It's just that the snow always looks so beautiful when no one's touched it yet."

"So don't touch it – appreciate its pure and untainted beauty from the comfort and warmth of your living room."

"I could. Or…" She bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. "I could just get on with it." She continued to smile as she started pressing the snow together, and Cal wandered over to join her.

Ten minutes later, they had a decent sized snowman's body and head, and Gillian sat back on her heels looking at it appreciatively. "Just the details to do now," she said, standing up and brushing the snow off her gloves.

"Not going to get your icing are you?"

"I think I'll stick to the more traditional methods this year," she chuckled, heading towards the front door. "You look for a mouth."

She headed inside, and Cal waited patiently for her to retrieve the items needed to complete their snowman. He remembered making a snowman as a child with his mother; the snow had fallen on one of her good days, the kind of day where she was able to get out of bed and try and fulfil her role as a mother with some enthusiasm. They'd built a snowman in their back garden, giving him a carrot nose and a woolly hat and Cal's dad's old scarf. Afterwards, they'd sat inside, cuddled up under a blanket as the happiness of the day wore off and her mood sank as low as the sinking sun. Cal, who had been eight or nine at the time, remembered falling asleep against her on the sofa, waking up in the morning to find that much of the snow had melted, and Clyde the snowman was now nothing more than a big ball of snow with a scarf and carrot on the ground next to it.

He hadn't made a snowman since that day until he became a father; having a child of his own, it seemed almost a necessity to be able to make a snowman, and, seeing his daughter's face light up with pleasure at the sight of snow for the first time, he was damned if he was going to pass up the opportunity to spend some quality time with her. Zoe hadn't been interested in the snow; she'd stayed in her office to do work while Cal and Emily played outside, staying until Cal's limbs were aching from the cold, but not leaving until little Emily decided she was ready to go indoors.

Now as an adult, and with Emily a teenager, he hadn't imagined he'd ever have another day of playing in the snow. Yet here he was, making a snowman and actually _enjoying _it – and it was all because of one woman. He reached down and picked up a small twig that looked about right for a mouth, thinking as he did so about the three women who'd actually managed to make being in the freezing cold a pleasurable experience. His mother. His daughter. The woman he loved. The three most important people in his life.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden smack on his shoulder, and he emitted a small yelp as the snowball made contact. "Hey!"

She giggled, a bag swinging lightly in one hand. "Sorry. Couldn't resist. You just looked so deep in thought…"

"So you just had to throw a snowball at me?"

"Something like that." She smiled as she placed the bag next to the snowman and started pulling out its contents. "What were you thinking about anyway?"

Cal watched as she lovingly draped the scarf around the snowman, deposited a hat on his head and pressed two buttons in perfect position for the eyes before reaching for the carrot at the bottom of the bag.

"Nothing much." His hand closed over hers, and they pulled out the carrot together and placed it in position, his smile matching her own.

-

-

A/N Still a bit more to come… there's just a lot of potential for fun in the snow! I might even update again today… depends how much I find myself procrastinating!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Lie to Me, sadly.**

Chapter Three

With the carrot nose firmly in place, Gillian looked at Cal expectantly, and he responded by holding up the twig he'd found for the mouth. She gestured towards the snowman's face, indicating he should put it on. He did so, deliberately placing it so it was down turned, giving the snowman a sad expression, and he glanced at Gillian sideways. She just looked at him, a slight smile tugging at her lips, until he sighed and turned the mouth upside down. "Satisfied?"

"Much better."

"Or we could do it like this…" He moved the twig so one corner was raised. "Contempt, see?"

She giggled. "I see."

"But you're probably right, happiness is better for a snowman." He tried to reposition the stick where it had been moments earlier, but it kept slipping. Swearing softly under his breath he tried again, cursing more loudly when the twig snapped.

Gillian watched him battle with the twig in amusement. "Need any help there?" she asked innocently, and he frowned.

"I need a better stick." She laughed as she watched him start hunting around the garden again, returning at last with a small twig which he pushed into place. "There."

Gillian scrutinised the snowman's face. The twig was straighter than the last one, losing the effect of a smile the previous one had given. "He looks a bit…"

"Grumpy," Cal finished. "Yeah."

"He looks like you," Gillian couldn't help saying, and collapsed into giggles at the look on Cal's face. "Here." She reached forwards and started fiddling with it.

"You can't bend it, it'll break," Cal told her knowledgably, then looked on in confusion as Gillian stepped back with a satisfied smile.

"There." The snowman now looked the definition of happiness, smiling up at Cal with an unbroken twig for a mouth.

"How did you…?"

"I can make anyone smile," she joked, but Cal was inclined to agree.

"You probably can, love."

Silence fell between them as they stood admiring their handiwork, then a voice broke the stillness. "Hey! Cool snowman!"

They both turned towards the sound of the voice, and Gillian recognised one of the children who lived down the street. "Hi… Danny isn't it?"

The boy nodded. "Where's your kid?" he asked, looking from Gillian to Cal and back again.

Cal felt Gillian tense slightly next to him, and he instinctively reached out and draped his arm around her shoulder. "I don't have a kid," she told Danny, managing to smile at him, although Cal saw the sadness hidden beneath it.

"Oh." He looked confused. "So… you're grown ups, but you're making a snowman?"

"I know, I can't believe it either," Cal told him, and Gillian pulled away from him slightly to hit him playfully on the arm.

"Yes, Danny," she told the boy. "We're grown ups, but that doesn't mean we can't still have fun. Remember that when you get older."

"Okay." The boy looked like he was torn between being confused and impressed. "Well… I'm off on my sledge. See ya!" and he ran off.

"Giving life lessons to eight year olds now, are we?" Cal tried to break the ice and steer Gillian away from any morose thoughts she might have been having at that moment.

"Guess so." She smiled at him, although it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"So… is it time to go in yet?"

"Certainly not! First of all, we need to give our new friend a name…"

"Of course. Silly me. Okay, how about… Douglas."

"Douglas?"

"It's a good name for a snowman," he said defensively. "Or Herbert. Or Jasper. Or… I've got it. Edmund."

She giggled, and he was pleased to see the sparkle back in her eyes. "You're a very strange man, Dr Lightman."

"That I am, love. Surely you haven't only just figured that out?"

"I've had my suspicions for a while now."

They were interrupted by the sound of Cal's cell phone, and he snatched it out of his pocket, answering it on the third ring. Gillian rolled her eyes at him, and he gave her an apologetic grin. "Lightman."

"Hey boss, just wanted to check you got the email I sent you with the Phillips footage?"

"Er, no, not yet," Cal said, mouthing 'Loker' at Gillian.

"Oh, right. Well, it's not urgent; I just thought I'd check you'd got it. I know you're not at the office today, but I figured you'd still be by your computer."

"I'm making a snowman, actually," Cal informed him, and he heard Gillian laugh. She was now squatting down in the corner of the garden, busily doing something in the snow. Suddenly realising what she was doing, Cal propped the receiver under one ear and bent down behind their as-yet-unnamed snowman and started gathering up snow himself.

"Er, okay," Loker was saying, probably assuming his boss was joking. "Well, if you need me to look over anything today…"

"Yeah, I'll call you if I need you," Cal said, then abruptly hung up the phone and slipped it quickly back into his pocket. He peeked out from behind the snowman just as Gillian's well-aimed snowball made contact with his chest. Seconds later, his own snowball hurtled through the air, catching her on the arm.

He grinned at her started expression. "Game on, Dr Foster. Game on."


	4. Chapter 4

Just a short chapter… this story just seems to be coming to me in little bursts, so lots of short little chapters is what you're getting! :-]

**Disclaimer: Still don't own any of this stuff**

Chapter Four

Cal grinned wickedly as he sent another snowball flying through the air. Ducking back behind the snowman he avoided Gillian's next missile, but the one that followed caught the snowman and damaged part of his head.

"Oi! Watch Edmund!"

Giggling madly, she continued pelting him with snowballs, edging closer to him as she did so. "Can't use him as cover forever," she shouted, then disappeared behind the front hedge, tossing a snowball over her shoulder as she ran.

Cal had to admit it: he was impressed. She wasn't lying when she said she was a good shot, and she made snowballs really quickly as well; twice as quickly as him it seemed, which was both impressive and slightly annoying.

The battle continued, and Cal found he wasn't actually feeling the cold, or any embarrassment caused by the odd look they got from the woman who walked past with her dog. All he was feeling was pleasure and excitement and, to be honest, like a kid again. _Not that I had these kinds of thoughts when I was a kid_, he thought with amusement as he looked at Gillian's flushed face and perfect smile.

After about ten minutes, most of the snow in Gillian's small front garden had been used up, whereas she, on the other side of the hedge, had ample supply from the road and cars. Cal raised his hands. "Oi, Foster. Can we call a truce now? I'm out of snow, unless you want me to decapitate Edmund."

"Hmm." Her head appeared over the hedge. "I'm not sure I can accept a truce – if, however, you want to _surrender_…"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "That word's not in my vocabulary, darling."

She laughed and chucked another snowball, which narrowly missed his head as he dodged out of the way just in time. "Guess you're in trouble then."

"I'll just have to start on Edmund then, won't I?"

"Stop calling him Edmund." She giggled. "Who says it's a man, anyway?"

"Er… correct me if I'm wrong, love, but isn't he a snow_man_?"

"Well, it's very sexist. Why can't they be called snowpeople?"

"Snowpeople? Have you lost your mind?"

"Working with you for the best part of a decade, it was bound to happen sooner or later." She poked her tongue out at him.

"Charming." He stuck his out at her as well. "Now, tell me, love, haven't you been calling our friend here a _snowman _as well? Not once do I recall hearing you say the word 'snowperson.'

"You're just trying to stall me," she accused. "Poor attempt at a defence, Cal, to try and keep me talking. You know why?"

"No, but I bet you're going to tell me."

"Because, unlike Edmund the snow_man_, I'm a woman. Which means I can multitask." She bent down for a second, then suddenly a barrage of snowballs came flying through the air towards him. "I can talk _and _make snowballs at the same time. Who'd have thought it?"

"Okay, okay, I surrender!" Cal held up his hands. The snowballs ceased.

"You surrender?"

"Yes, I surrender! God woman, you're relentless." She laughed and started walking towards him. He rested a hand lightly on the snowman. "What's she like, eh Edmund? I feel sorry for you, living in her garden. Pray for sunlight, mate."

Picking up the empty bag that had held the snowman's accessories, Gillian trotted towards the door. "Ready for a warm drink?"

"Hell yes. I'm freezing. And soaking," he added.

"Better come inside and get out of those wet clothes then," she said lightly, opening the front door and pulling her boots off.

"If you say so, love," he said, flashing her his trademark grin, and stepped into the house beside her, shutting the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Lie to Me**

Chapter Five

Cal was still tugging his boots off a few minutes later, moaning loudly about the cold, making Gillian laugh even more. She was already inside, her boots by the door and her coat hanging up on the coat rack again. Eventually free of his footwear and outer garments, Cal ambled into the living room just as Gillian walked out the kitchen.

"Drinks are warming, I'm just going to change," she informed him.

"Right," he said. "And I'll just stay in these wet clothes, shall I?"

"Feel free to take them off, if you like," she said with a girlish giggle, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Really, Foster? Who knew you were that kind of girl."

"I have some things you can change into," she told him. Noticing the slight change in his expression, she jumped in before he could voice his thoughts aloud. "Yes, they were things that belonged to Alec. I don't even know why I have them here… but there's a jumper I bought him that he never really liked, but I did, so I…" She trailed off, somewhat embarrassed, and Cal reached out to rub her shoulder briefly.

"It's okay, love. If you chose it I'm sure it's excellent. And as long as it's been washed since he last wore it…"

She laughed. "Yes, it has." She headed towards the stairs, returning a few moments later with a thick jumper and a pair of black trousers. "Here." She handed him the pile of clothes, then returned to her bedroom. When she came out again a few minutes later, Cal was changed. Seeing him in Alec's clothes was a little strange, but Gillian couldn't help a slight smile coming to her lips when she saw him in that jumper. Alec had never liked it, and to be honest, it had never really suited him, nice as it had looked in the shop. Gillian had assumed her fashion taste had just abandoned her on that particular shopping day, but seeing Cal now, she realised it was in fact a very nice jumper – it just needed to be on the right person.

"That husband of yours really did have crap taste," Cal commented, admiring the jumper. "This is lovely." He caught Gillian's expression. "His taste in wives excluded, of course. There at least he had good taste."

Gillian smiled and headed to the kitchen to retrieve their drinks – another hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows) for her, and another mug of hot spiced cider for Cal. She carried both drinks in, then returned to get the tin of gingerbread men. As soon as she'd placed the tin down, she disappeared again, and Cal sighed. "What now, love? Sit down and relax will you?"

She reappeared with a blanket which she draped over Cal as he sat on the coach, then took his clothes into the kitchen. "Right," she said, returning to the living room at last. "I've put your clothes on the heater. They'll be dry in a few hours."

Cal smiled at her. "Reckon you can put up with having me here that long, love?"

"I'm not sure you could leave, even if I wanted you to," she pointed out, gesturing out the window. The snow was falling even more heavily, and there was already a good five or six inches on the ground.

"You might have a point there." He patted the sofa next to him and held the blanket up. She sat down, scooting close to him as he wrapped the blanket around both of them. She reached forward for her hot chocolate, then settled back on the sofa against Cal. He smiled. She'd changed into a pair of jeans and a thick, cosy jumper; _only Foster could make a thick jumper look sexy_, he thought, trying but failing to hide a grin.

"What?" she asked, amused.

"What, what?"

"Why are you smiling?"

"Not allowed to smile now, am I?"

"You're allowed," she said, "you just have to tell me why."

He exhaled loudly. "Fine, bossy boots. I'm happy, alright? I've finally started to warm up after being out in the bloomin' cold for what felt like hours, I've got a nice mug of cider to warm me up even more, an ample supply of gingerbread men in front of me… it's not the worst snowed in situation, is it? Company's not bad, either," he added with a casual shrug, and she smiled, squeezing his arm.

"See, snow is a happy thing. I told you."

"Does this mean you're going to start thinking you're right all the time now?" He let out a groan. "I take it back. I'm miserable. I hate the bloody snow."

She grinned. "Too late, Dr Lightman. I've seen the snow-loving side of you. There's no going back now."

He sighed. "Just don't tell anyone, okay?"

"I might keep it a secret. If you're nice to me."

"Hey! I'm always nice to you!"

She laughed. "Good. Keep it up."

Cal's phone rang again, and he grunted in annoyance. "Bloody Loker. Missing me, that's what it is. Doesn't know what to do without me around to hold his hand."

"Oh, leave him alone," Gillian said with a smile, shaking her head.

Cal detangled himself from the blanket, then started looking around for his phone. "Oh, it's probably still in my pocket," he said, and he and Gillian both turned their heads towards the kitchen, now realising where the sound of the ringing was coming from.

Gillian jumped off the sofa, and ten seconds later had flipped Cal's phone open just before the call disconnected. "Hello?"

"Gillian?"

"Hi Loker," she said. "Everything okay?"

"Er… yeah, I just… this is Lightman's phone, right?"

"Yes," she said. "Hang on, I'll pass you over." Cal had appeared by her side, and she wordlessly handed the phone to him.

"Loker," he barked down the phone. "This had better be good, I've left my blanket and my hot cider to come and take this call."

"Oh… er… sorry. You're at Dr Foster's?" He couldn't hide the smile in his voice from his boss, but Cal chose to ignore him.

"What's the problem?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I conducted an interview with Maggie Stevens over the phone, I can send you the file for voice-analysis, but I think she's telling the truth."

"Right, well, we'll be the judge of that," Cal told him.

"We?" There was still a trace of amusement in Loker's voice.

"Send it over," Cal said in the grumpiest voice he could muster, fighting off a smile as he imagined the gossip that would circulate once they were all back at the office. "I'll look at it if I feel like it. Now, for God's sake stop be a boring sod and go out and have some fun in the snow."

There was silence on the other end of the phone as Loker pulled the receiver away from his ear and looked at it in confusion. "Er," he said at last. "Okay."

"I'm serious. Go and build a snowman – or a snow_person_," he saw Gillian's face crease up with laughter, "go and throw snowballs at someone or _something_. Just go and enjoy it and stop working. Most importantly, stop calling me every five minutes, okay?"

"Right you are boss," Loker said, silently thanking Gillian Foster for the magic she always seemed able to work on Lightman.

Disconnecting the call, Cal turned to Gillian. "Loker sends his love." He resumed his position on the sofa, drawing the blanket back up to his chest. "So, what else do you usually do on a snow day, Dr Foster?" His smile faded at the look on her face. "Now, hang on a minute. I went outside, I built a snowman, I let you thrash me in a snowball fight…"

"Let me?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

"But," he continued, "I draw the line here. Absolutely." With a mischievous smile she jumped off the sofa, ignoring his protests. "No amount of cider and gingerbread will make this bearable, Foster, none."

She opened the cupboard near the television and started scanning the contents.

"Foster," he said, "listen to me. Don't you dare take one of those…"

She pulled a DVD out of the cupboard, waving it at him teasingly.

"Don't take that out of the box," he threatened her as she slid it out and held the disc between her fingers.

"Don't even think about putting it in the machine," he said, as she pressed the button to open the disc drive, grinning at him.

"Am I talking in Martian here or something?"

"Nope, plain old Cal Lightman English. I'm just ignoring you."

"Charming."

She came and sat back on the sofa, the DVD remote clutched in her hand. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." He sighed. "Now, remind me again what's so charming about singing nuns and Nazis?"

Gillian grinned at him. "Snow, hot chocolate, gingerbread…" _you_, she silently added. "Those are all some of my favourite things. As is this movie." She settled her head against his shoulder as she hit play.

Cal wrapped his arm around her, allowing his face to break into a smile once he knew she couldn't see him. _If my staff could see me now_, he thought wryly as the music started and Julie Andrews appeared, twirling over the hills. Still, home alone, probably working, or snuggled on the sofa with Gillian watching her favourite movie… it was hardly a difficult decision as to which he'd prefer. "You're not going to sing along, are you?" he asked suddenly, and Gillian's grin widened. "Oh, Foster, no. Please…"

"The hills are aliiiiive…." Cal shook his head. _The things I put up with for this woman. _He couldn't help but laugh, and Gillian looked at him questioningly.

"What are you laughing at now?"

"Nothing," he said innocently. "Now are you going to talk the whole way through? I personally don't want to miss the bit where they sing about female deer. Charming it is, that bit."

Gillian giggled and snuggled even closer to him as they settled down to watch the film, both feeling more content than they had in a long time.


	6. Chapter 6

So, the snow may have almost disappeared from where I live, but in Cal and Gillian's world there's still lots of it around :-] Here's the next chapter… look out for my little inside joke… I just couldn't resist ;-)

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Lie to Me, sadly. Zilch.**

Chapter Six

Gillian let out another contented sigh, and Cal smiled. As grumpy as he was pretending to be, he was actually enjoying the film, although of course that had more to do with having Gillian next to him, smiling brightly at the children, the songs… everything, really. As the children heard Maria join in their singing and realised she had returned, Cal suddenly felt Gillian move, and she reached sideways to grab a tissue.

"Are you _crying_?" he asked, incredulously.

"It's an emotional part of the story!" she said defensively, dabbing at her eyes, and Cal had to laugh.

"Course it is, love."

"Shut up," she said, smiling through her tears. "Just because you've got a heart of stone."

He chuckled, bringing his arm around Gillian's shoulders again as they continued watching the movie. Gillian's tears had dried, but she kept the tissue handy, ready for the other two scenes that made her a little weepy – the wedding and the ending. She'd seen this movie thousands of times, and knew every line by heart, but suddenly one of her favourite lines came as almost a surprise to her. "You can't marry someone when you're in love with someone else", the Captain told Maria. _I did_, she thought, blinking hard as she fought to keep her eyes fixed on the screen and away from Cal.

"You can't marry someone when you're in love with someone else." Cal tried not to react to that line, but he couldn't help it. _What happens if you've already married someone when you fall in love with someone else?_

He was forced out of his thoughts by a sniff from Gillian as Maria started walking down the aisle. "Crying again, love?"

"Weddings make me cry, okay?" She punched him lightly on the arm. "Now shut up or I'll stop feeding you gingerbread and cider."

"Ah, but that was part of our deal – I'd play in the snow with you in return for gingerbread and cider and an afternoon of contentment and relaxation. The very fact you're making me watch this overly cheery stuff is almost enough to make me think you're not keeping up your end of the bargain, but I'll let that slide provided the cider keeps flowing and the gingerbread men keep coming."

She laughed. "I suppose I did agree to that, didn't I?"

"You did. Now, sssh, or we'll miss the wedding. Ah, bless, aren't they sweet," he said in an overly sarcastic tone, and Gillian shook her head.

"_Unsentimental_ doesn't even begin to cover it, does it?" she teased.

He grinned at her and reached forwards for another gingerbread man, munching on it happily. Gillian smiled, and leant over him slightly to flick the lamp on.

"Oh, I was enjoying the darkness. Partly because it matches my mood when watching any film involving singing, but it also gave the room a rather cinema-like ambiance. I was hoping for a snog in the back row."

"You'll be lucky." She settled herself back into position against the sofa, Cal's arm still draped loosely around her shoulders as they continued to watch the movie. Cal pretended to cover his ears when Gillian joined in the singing at the festival, and she persisted in calling him a misery, grumpy and 'in desperate need of a bit more singing' in his life.

Eventually, the film drew to a close, and although Cal let out a dramatic sigh as if to say, _Thank God that's over_, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed the last two hours of watching the film, snuggled under the blanket with Foster.

"Ah," Gillian said, dabbing at her eyes. "The ending, it gets me every time."

"Are there any movies that _don't _make you cry?"

She considered this. "Pulp Fiction?" she said at last, and Cal laughed.

"Not really your kind of movie is it, love?"

"It's not bad." She yawned. "It's really dark now," she commented, pushing the blanket off her legs and standing up. She crossed towards the window and peered outside. "And it's still snowing," she said. "Woah."

"What?" Cal stood up and joined her at the window.

"Woah indeed," he said. He thought there'd been a lot of snow earlier – if that was a lot, he didn't know how to describe what he was looking at now. A hell of a lot, perhaps. There had to be at least eight inches, and his car was completely covered.

"Cal," Gillian said, "you're not going anywhere tonight. No arguments," she added sternly.

_As if I'd argue_, Cal thought with a slight smile. "Right you are, love," he said. "Looks like you're stuck with me for a bit longer then."

"Unfortunately." Gillian stuck her tongue out at him, but couldn't stop a small smile flickering across her face. "So, what next? I'll be generous and give you a choice – _Notting Hill_, _Gone with the Wind _or _Casablanca_." She grinned at the expression on his face. "What'll it be?"

Cal chewed on his bottom lip as he considered his options. "Don't suppose you've got Pulp Fiction?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Lie to Me at all unfortunately**

Chapter Seven

Gillian laughed. "I suppose inflicting another of my girly movies on you would just be too cruel, especially since you did help me make an exceptionally good snowman today, and have been keeping me company with relatively little moaning – well, for you anyway."

"Precisely. So… no more girly movies?"

"Well, the night is young, Cal. We can't rule it out. It's barely five, and from the look of that snow God knows when you're going to be able to leave here."

Cal sighed in mock annoyance. "I know, it's terrible. Stuck here, with you… when I think of all the work I could be doing…"

"Terrible," Gillian agreed with a teasing smile as she drew the heavy curtains shut. "So I'll try and be nice to you. Girly movies are put on hold for the time being…" She crossed the room and started rummaging in a drawer. "I think you'll find _this _is more up your street?" With a flourish she produced a pack of cards, and Cal laughed.

"Not a bad idea, Foster. Care to make it interesting?"

"Hmm… in what way?"

"I bet you three gingerbread men that I beat you at whatever we play."

"Excuse me?" she asked, her hands on her hips. "Those are _my _gingerbread men. You can't gamble with them."

"Fine – what do you want, then? Name it."

A mischievous smile spread across Gillian's face. "Okay… if I win, you have to go sledging out in the street tomorrow."

"Sledging?"

"Yep. I still have my old sledge in the shed, in case it's ever snowy for when Stephen and the kids visit."

Cal knew full well that Gillian's brother hardly ever visited with his children, and suspected the sledge was just as much for her as it was for them. Still, he said nothing, only smiled at her.

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine."

"No arguments?"

"No arguments."

"Cal… you did hear what I said, right? Sledging. In the middle of the street. In the middle of the _day_. In front of people."

"I heard you, love, and while you're right in thinking that would be a hideous ordeal for me, I don't think _you _were listening. I only have to do that if I lose, so…" He shrugged, a smug grin on his face.

"_If_ you win," Gillian said, her bright blue eyes still focussed on his intently, "what do you want?"

Cal considered this. "Final decision on any movie watched or activity undertaken whilst we are snowed in."

Gillian nodded. "Deal."

Cal grinned and sat down on the sofa as Gillian pulled the coffee table closer to them and began shuffling the cards, sitting herself down on the sofa as she did so.

"Get ready to find us a decent movie to watch, Foster," he said, crossing his legs as he made himself more comfortable.

"Lovely weather for sledging," Gillian replied, her eyes trained on the cards in her hands but a smile tugging at her lips. "Haven't you underestimated me once already today?"

Cal's mind flicked back to the snowball fight. "Mm," he grudgingly admitted. "You throw a good snowball, I'll give you that. But this is cards, love. You can't best me at this game."

"We'll see." Gillian smiled sweetly at him as she began dealing the cards.

###

"Snap!" Gillian's hand flew to the pile before Cal even realised she'd laid a queen on top of his own.

"Damn," he swore, looking at the three cards left in his hands, compared to the large wad Gillian held in hers.

"What's the matter, Cal?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him. "Don't like to lose?"

"I haven't lost yet, have I?" He placed another card down, watching with hawk like eyes as Gillian played hers. He played his penultimate card – a two – and watched as she laid a seven on it. Last chance. He flipped the card over and before he could even see what it was shouted "Snap!" as he clamped his hands down on the small pile of cards.

Gillian raised one eyebrow at him. "Last time I checked, Cal, the seven of hearts and the king of spades are in no way the same."

"Oh." He lifted his hand and looked down at the cards. "Er…"

"Well, well, who'd have thought it? Cal Lightman beaten at cards by a _girl_." She giggled as he shot her a look of annoyance.

"It's a stupid kid's game," he grumbled. "How many grown ups still play Snap?"

"Well, I do," she said, tucking one leg underneath her on the couch.

"Well, you're not normal," he told her, and she laughed.

"Abnormal I may be… but I'm the one who'll be deciding on our movie schedule for the rest of the evening, and _you _are the one who will be demonstrating to the whole of my street tomorrow the proper way to ride a sledge."

Cal opened his mouth then closed it again. She had him there.

"Refill?" Gillian asked, gesturing to his mug. "Or shall we move onto the wine?"

"Wine, definitely wine. And if I'm going to go bloody sledging tomorrow, I'd better be drinking all night – there's no way I'm doing that if I'm anything remotely resembling sober."

Gillian laughed and stood up, heading towards the kitchen. Cal shook his head in bemusement. Full of surprises, that woman. Always full of bloody surprises.


	8. Chapter 8

So, the snow had all melted here, but guess what? We're apparently going to get lots more! In the meantime, here's a little more of what Cal and Gillian have been getting up to when snowed in ;-)

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

Chapter Eight

Ten minutes later, Cal and Gillian were curled up on the sofa together, her head resting lightly on his shoulder as they sipped their wine, watching a show that Cal could only describe as _dire _– even that seemed to be an understatement. Five guys and five young women – all ridiculously attractive, of course - were sent to a villa in Ibiza together; they were set various tasks, had to go on dates with each other in different pairings, and basically spent most of the time swanning around in bathing suits bitching about each other and scheming to try and sleep with one of the others.

The only reason Cal was tolerating this, of course, was that Gillian was leaning against him, the warmth of her body already seeming to seep into his skin. He might be watching utter crap on TV, but he was more relaxed and content than he'd been for a long time.

"Ooh, she's so jealous," Gillian said. "Look at her, saying she doesn't care if Kirsty and Simon get together because it's Rob she wants – you can just _tell _she's after Simon."

"Why d'you watch this crap, love?" Cal shook his head in amazement.

"What?" Gillian looked at him in surprise. "It's interesting!"

"_Interesting? _Are you serious?"

"It's an interesting study in human behaviour," she informed him. "See how these people react when thrown together; see the emotions they try to hide; see the…"

"All I see, love, is a bunch of hormonally charged twenty somethings desperate to be on television and get laid, and who don't care if those two things happen at the same time. And I don't see how a woman who reads Jane Austen and Shakespeare can enjoy this _rubbish_. Or why she'd make her poor partner watch it, either."

"Well, if you were better at snap you wouldn't have to watch it, would you?" she teased him.

He grinned. "You really do love to torture me, don't you Foster?"

"Yep. But I can't torture myself anymore." She reached for the control and quickly killed the TV.

"Eh?" Cal said as he watched the screen go blank. "I thought…"

"That I enjoyed that monstrosity of a program? Certainly not, you're right. It's complete rubbish."

Realisation dawned on Cal's face. "You were just trying to wind me up?"

"You lost a bet. I thought I should make you suffer a little, especially since you were so cocky about winning." She giggled at the look on his face. "What's the matter, Cal? Couldn't you read me?" She gave him an innocent smile. "Did I really have you convinced that I cared about Kirsty and Simon?"

"You…" He shook his head, unable to believe she'd fooled him like that. "It's the wine," he said at last. "And the cider. You plied me with alcohol so you could make me weak and defenceless and take advantage of me."

Gillian laughed. "Want me to finish the rest of your wine, then?" She held out a hand to him, her eyes sparkling.

"I've got it, thanks," he said, draining his glass. "Can't have you getting drunk, god knows what crap you'd want to watch on TV if you were hammered."

"Speaking of TV… you know The Notebook's on tonight?"

"Oh, no. God, no. I remember when you first saw that and came into work the next day still crying."

"Not _still _crying," she corrected him, "just crying _again_. I stopped crying when I was asleep, and having breakfast and getting dressed, but then I got into work and it suddenly came flooding back to me…"

He shook his head in disbelief. "Women," was all he could say to that, and Gillian grinned at him.

"It's starting in about… ooh… two minutes." She flicked the TV back on, and found the channel.

The commercials drew to a close, and Cal sighed dramatically. "Here we go then." The idea of having to hold and comfort Gillian as she cried over a movie, though, was… well, not an entirely hideous prospect.

The film was just about to start, when suddenly the screen went black, at the same time as the room was plunged into darkness.

"No!" Gillian squealed.

"Uh oh," Cal said, standing up and crossing carefully to the window. Looking out, he saw all the houses in Gillian's road were also blacked out. "Power's out in the whole street."

He heard Gillian move towards him; stumbling slightly, she reached out with her arm and he caught her by the elbow, steadying her.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Cal was able to make out Gillian's face, scanning the street as he just had. "Damn." She sighed, then turned to face him.

He grinned at her. "So, what now, love?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Lie to Me, sadly**

Chapter Nine

They stood close together in near darkness for what seemed like an awfully long time to Cal. His hand was still resting on her arm, and her eyes were locked on his.

"Foster," he whispered, inching his face slightly closer to hers.

"The fridge," she suddenly blurted out.

"I beg your pardon?" he said, scrunching his face up as he looked at her in confusion.

"The fridge! And the freezer! If the power doesn't come back, I'll lose all my food!"

"Well, yeah, but it's only food, Foster, it's not like it's anything irreplaceable or…"

"My ice cream!" She hurried towards the kitchen, managing to avoid the furniture.

Clearly she was more familiar with the layout of her living room – naturally – as Cal found out when he awkwardly shuffled after her, banging his leg on the coffee table and hitting his arm on the doorframe. Reaching the kitchen, he could see her more clearly; a sliver of light from the moon shone through the window, and his eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness.

She was sat at the kitchen table, a large tub of ice cream in front of her, already tucking into it with a spoon. A table spoon.

Cal shook his head, laughing. "What?" she said through a mouthful of ice cream. "Oh, er… there's another spoon in the drawer."

"I'm fine thanks, love." He sat down next to her, thankful that the dim light in the room allowed him the chance to study her without her really seeing. Not that she'd notice much at the moment though, the way she was devouring that ice cream as though a worldwide ban had just been announced.

She lifted her eyes to his, noticing his grin, and halted with a spoonful of ice cream halfway to her mouth. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, Foster. Nothing at all."

"There's plenty more food in the fridge to be eaten, if you don't want ice cream. There's yoghurts, and cheese, and chocolate puddings – well, I'll have those," she amended hastily, and Cal's grin only grew. "I know you think I'm mad," she said, popping the spoon in her mouth. "But… mmm…" She closed her eyes and slid the spoon out slowly, letting the ice cream melt on her tongue before quickly swallowing. "But I don't want things going to waste," she said, opening her eyes and continuing her train of thought as though she hadn't just eaten a mouthful of ice cream in the most seductive way Cal had ever seen.

"There's milk, ham, fruit juice…"

"Lovely combination."

She giggled. "I can't eat it all on my own."

"Really?" He raised his eyebrows at her, and even in the dim light she caught the expression, and smacked him playfully on the arm. With a dramatic sigh he walked towards the fridge and opened it, realising as he did so that he had no hope whatsoever of seeing what was inside, as the light from the window wasn't shining in that direction. "I probably should have asked for this five minutes ago, before my shin became better acquainted with your coffee table, but have you got a flashlight?"

"If I did, do you think I'd be sitting here in the dark?"

"Frankly, yes, yes I do. You'd prioritise ice cream over essential items needed during a blackout any day."

She laughed. "Well… as it happens…" She stood up and scooted across the room, pulling a drawer open and whipping something out. A second later, a bright yellow light swept across the room.

"I bloody knew it!"

She handed it to him with a smile, then resumed her position at the kitchen table. Cal shook his head in amusement and reopened the fridge, scanning it properly now.

A minute later he sat down at the table again, his chosen items in front of him. A piece of blue cheese, a slice of tomato quiche, and a blueberry yoghurt. "What a feast. You're too good to me, Foster."

"Hey, it's not my fault the power went out before I could make you a proper dinner!"

"So you were going to make me a proper dinner then?" he asked lightly, biting into his cheese.

"I was thinking about it."

He directed the light towards her face, catching her mischievous smile before she hid it by taking another mouthful of ice cream.

"You sure you don't want some? I can be generous you know, even with ice cream."

"Nah, I'll stick with cheese and quiche love, you have it. I've got my yoghurt for afters, what more can a guy want?"

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, when Cal suddenly burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Just… this. Sitting here, with you, in the dark, devouring the contents of your fridge." He laughed harder. "It's just… funny, that's all."

"I guess it is." She joined in his laughter. "It's been quite a day."

"That it has, love," he said, his voice a little quieter.

She returned to her ice cream, and suddenly shivered. "I'm cold."

"You've just eaten almost a whole tub of ice cream, love. Hardly surprising."

"The heating," she said, berating herself for her stupidity. "I wasn't even thinking… I should have had some hot water in flasks ready to fill a hot water bottle, just in case…"

"Who the hell would be _that _prepared?" he asked, but the look on her face gave him his answer. "You usually do," he guessed, and she smiled.

"Well… if there's a bad storm or something, and I think there's a chance of a blackout, I tend to get prepared."

"So what happened today then?" He finished off the last bite of his quiche. "You weren't expecting a power cut?"

"I guess I didn't really think about it, I was too distracted." It was a casual comment, but Cal felt a whirl of emotions at her words.

"Distracted by me?" he asked innocently.

"In a manner of speaking. You're often a distraction."

"Well, aren't you just the sweetest, no one's ever said that to me before."

Gillian stood up and dumped her ice cream carton in the trash before washing up her spoon at the sink.

"Just leave it in the bowl, Foster," he said, knowing as he said it that she wouldn't.

"Just because there's a blackout doesn't mean I can't still be tidy," she informed him, drying it carefully on a tea towel. She turned to face him, her hands now on her hips and that defiant look on her face that he loved.

"Now, if you're done laughing at my ice cream consumption and my need to wash up cutlery, we need to do something about the temperature before we freeze to death."

Cal sat back in his chair, his hands behind his head. "I'm all ears, love. What do you suggest?"


	10. Chapter 10

So, the snow came again last night – I woke up to a blanket of snow, can't get into work, so (despite having lots of work to do at home) I'm here writing some more of Cal and Gillian's snowy adventure. Hope you enjoy! Just a short one, but I'll probably do another one later ;-)

**Disclaimer: As you know, none of this stuff is mine at all *sigh***

Chapter Ten

Gillian laughed at the suggestive look on his face. "Cal Lightman," she said, walking a little closer to him. "You're not flirting with me, are you?"

"Would I do a thing like that?" he asked innocently.

"You flirted with me when I was married," she reminded him playfully.

"When?!"

"What about the time we had that heat wave and the air conditioning at the office broke?"

He remembered. "What about it?"

"Do you remember your suggestion for how I could cool down?"

Cal grinned. "It was a fair suggestion, love. Never let it be said I'm the kind of boss who won't let his staff wear bikinis at work."

"I'm not staff, I'm your partner," she said quickly, pretending to be irritated, and he laughed.

"Right, yes. Sorry."

"And weren't you also the one who threw a jug of water over me to 'cool me down'?"

"Did I do that? Really can't remember…"

"Yes, you did. And that achieved nothing except drenching me and making my blouse completely see-through."

"Ah, yes. Now it's all coming back to me." He grinned at her.

She shook her head at him, that smile still on her face.

"Not that I'm not enjoying this little reminiscence of past flirtations, Foster, but can we get back to the matter in hand? I'm really starting to get bloody cold."

"There's probably still some warm water in the pipes… want me to throw that over you?"

"Tempting… but have you got any other suggestions?"

She laughed and walked out the door, leaving Cal sitting at her kitchen table. He ate his yoghurt, then washed up his plate and spoon. He was just drying the plate when Gillian walked back into the kitchen. "You washed up." He noted the surprise and delight in her voice.

"Yeah. I'm not a complete slob."

She smiled, then nodded her head slightly towards the living room. "I have everything we'll need."

Replacing the tea towel, Cal followed her, noticing a large pile of blankets piled up on the sofa. Gillian had also lit several candles, casting a gentle glow of light around the room. "Cosy," he commented. _Romantic_, he added silently.

"Blankets on their own won't be enough if the temperature drops any more and the power doesn't come back though," she said casually as she began unfolding them. "We might have to rely on body heat."

"Gillian Foster," he said, stepping closer to her. "You're not flirting with me, are you?"

"Why not?" She turned to face him, one eyebrow slightly raised on an otherwise passive face. "I'm not married anymore."


	11. Chapter 11

You wouldn't have this chapter if a) I hadn't been snowed in today, and b) I wasn't such a procrastinator ;-)

**Disclaimer: Still don't own any of this stuff.**

Chapter Eleven

She held his gaze for a couple of seconds, then resumed fluffing out the blankets. While Cal still stood behind the sofa, she walked around it, careful to avoid the table, and sat down. Draping one blanket over her legs, she flung the largest one over her upper body, drawing it up to her chin with one hand, while with the other hand she held the blanket up at the side, ready for Cal to sit down.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there all evening? I was under the impression you were cold."

Slowly, Cal moved closer to the sofa and sat down. Gillian threw the blanket over him, then scooted closer. Pressing her body close to his, she rested her head on his shoulder, and gently brought one hand up to rest on his chest, letting out a soft sigh as she did so.

Cal lifted his arm, gently shifting the position of her head as he wrapped that arm around her shoulders, pulling her in even closer. With his other hand he rearranged the blankets over them.

"Mmm," Gillian said sleepily. "This is nice."

"It is." Cal inhaled slightly; her hair smelt like some kind of fruit, although he wasn't quite sure which. Sniffing again, he thought perhaps passion fruit… or mango? Perhaps a combination of the two…

"Did you just smell my hair?" Gillian lifted her head from his chest and looked at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Er… yeah. What of it?"

She giggled. "Don't you know what it means when a guy sniffs a girl's hair?" she teased.

"Does it mean that her hair is very close to his nose, and he accidentally smelt her shampoo, but couldn't quite work out what fruit it smelt of, so he sniffed again?"

"Hmm... maybe. Usually it means he _likes_ her."

"Well, you know I like you, we're friends," Cal replied, pretending he didn't know what she was talking about, and Gillian smiled.

"So what fruit do you think it is?"

It was so hard to read her facial expressions with only the flickering candlelight illuminating the room, and Cal frowned slightly, not used to being at that disadvantage. "Mango," he said at last. "Or passion fruit. Or..." He leant in closer, so his face brushed against her hair, and felt her shiver slightly. "Kiwi?"

"Kiwi??" she said incredulously. "Cal, have you ever _smelt _a kiwi?"

"Yes," he said, his voice slightly higher pitched with a pinch of good-humoured irritation. "And it smells just like this." He ran his fingers through her hair, bringing a handful gently to his nose and inhaling again. "It's definitely kiwi."

Silence fell between them, but with their eyes locked on one another, Gillian felt she didn't need words to communicate with Cal Lightman right now; come to think of it, they could communicate without words quite a lot of the time. Surely her feelings were written across her face? Cal's hand trailed slowly from her hair down her face and neck, tracing over her skin with a feather light touch that made Gillian shiver. He was looking at her intently; no doubt trying to tell if she was comfortable with this new level of intimacy between them. The darkness in the room was probably making it harder for him to read her expressions, she thought, and bit back a laugh at the look of concentration on his face as he surveyed her.

"Cal.." she said quietly.

"Glad you spoke, love. It's hard to see in this damn darkness." She caught the smile on his face.

"Well, when you can't see properly, you have to use your other senses. Hearing, touch," she ran her hand lightly over his chest, "smell…", she flicked her hair slightly with a smile, "and… oh, what's that other one, I forgot…"

Her lips just had time to curl into a teasing smile before Cal closed the gap between them, kissing her so softly and sweetly Gillian thought she must be imagining it. After a few seconds the kiss intensified; Cal drew her closer to him as he slid his tongue past her lips, seeking out her own, and felt a quiver against his lips as she moaned into his mouth.

She moved her hand from his chest to his hair, pushing herself up from the sofa a little with her other hand. The feel of her in his arms, kissing him back with as much passion as he poured into her, was more powerful than Cal had ever imagined it could be. She fit so perfectly in his arms, she tasted so sweet, and as her fingers scraped along his scalp, eliciting a low moan from his throat, he knew they had reached the point of no return: this was it. No going back now. Line, be damned. Gillian Foster was in his arms, and he intended to keep her there.

"Guava," Gillian said a little breathlessly as they eventually broke apart.

Cal looked confused for a moment, then smiled. Burying his face in her neck, he kissed her lightly, trailing a line of kisses up her neck and biting gently on her earlobe before kissing her hair and inhaling deeply. "Guava," he agreed. "Definitely guava."

She smiled at him in the half darkness, her fingers still running through his hair. "Feeling warmer now, Dr Lightman?"

"Much warmer, thank you Dr Foster. Although I think there's still a little room for improvement…" He pulled her towards him so she was straddling his lap, their chests pressed together. "That's better," he murmured, brushing her lips with his own again. "It's not a bad way to pass the time, is it?"

"Mmm," she sighed. "No. Much better than watching reality TV, that's for sure."

"Couldn't agree more, love." He kissed her again, sliding his hands up her back. "You know," he murmured against her lips as they broke apart again for air, their faces still close enough together to feel each other's breath on their faces, "I think you planned this whole thing – the snow, the blackout, everything – just to seduce me."

Gillian giggled. "Oh just shut up and kiss me, Cal," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You know I love it when you're bossy." His voice hummed in her ear as he shifted his lips to hers, gladly obeying her request. The darkness may have masked visual clues as to how the other was feeling, but the passion in their kiss spoke volumes. As Cal felt Gillian's body melt into his as he kissed her, he realised that he'd just discovered his new favourite form of non-verbal communication with this beautiful woman, and nothing in the world was going to drag him away from it now.


	12. Epilogue

Some of you may have read the rest of this story before; I wrote it last year when snowed in. When the snow disappeared, so did my inspiration, and despite numerous requests throughout the year to continue the story, it didn't feel right writing about snow in the middle of summer. But now, it is winter – snow has come again (although it has melted again where I am too) and it has been just over a year since the rest of the story was written. I now give you the FINAL part of Snow Day. Enjoy, and thank you to everyone who commented on this story along the way :-)

Epilogue

Gillian was humming absent-mindedly to herself as she straightened the sofa cushions and put the magazines on the coffee table into a neat pile. She was just about to go into the kitchen to boil the kettle when she heard Cal's voice shouting to her from upstairs.

"What?" she called, unable to hear exactly what he was saying.

A minute later he appeared, gesturing wildly at the window. "Snow! It's snowing, Gill, have you looked outside?"

"It is?" Her face lit up as she hurried to the living room window, smiling at the sight of delicate snowflakes gently falling from the sky. "So it is."

Cal stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. "Do you know what day it is today, Gill?"

She turned in his arms, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Is it a special day?"

He sighed. "It's been a year, Gill. One year exactly since we had that terrible snow, and I came to see you, and we got snowed in..."

"And built a snowman," she remembered, smiling.

"And ate gingerbread men..."

"And watched The Sound of Music," she continued. "That was a good day."

"Of course it was." He traced a finger lightly over her lips. "Day we got together, wasn't it? Me, half drunk on wine and cider, you with your hair all smelling of papaya..."

"Guava," she corrected, and he grinned.

"You remember."

"Of course I remember." She leant forward to kiss him, her hands finding his. "That was a fantastic day. I beat you at Snap."

"Oh, that was the best thing about that day, was it?"

"It meant that I got to see you sledging in the street the next day. _That _was fun." She giggled. "I've still got the photo somewhere."

"Yeah, alright, let's forget about that," he said quickly. "Point is, it's our anniversary. _And _it's snowing."

She smiled. "Happy anniversary, Cal."

"Happy anniversary, Gill." He kissed her again, still holding onto her hands. "So, how do you want to celebrate?"

She turned to look out the window, then returned her gaze to Cal and gave him a meaningful look.

"Not enough snow for a snowman yet, love."

She pouted. "I suppose you're right. So, we'll have to recreate something else from that day..."

"Hot spiced cider," Cal said, at the exact same moment Gillian said, "Hot chocolate."

She laughed. "Works for me."

She tried to step past him to the kitchen, but he caught hold of her wrist, pulling her back into him. "You know what else we could do that would be... traditional."

"Mm," she murmured. "I do."

Then: "The Sound of Music," she said, at the same time Cal said "sex on the couch."

She considered this. "We could do both."

"Oh, Gill, really. Nuns and children shouldn't see that."

She laughed. "Perhaps I can be persuaded to skip the film. If you make it worth my while."

"Have no doubt about that," he told her, his seductive gaze fixed firmly on her, and she felt her breathing start to quicken, just like it always did around him, even after a year.

"Want the drinks first?" she asked, and he scoffed.

"What do you think?"

"I think 'no'," she laughed. She was just about to kiss him again when he stepped away, drawing the curtains and blocking the light from the room.

"Cal, what are you..."

"We had a blackout, love, if you remember."

"I do remember," she said, her voice filled with amusement.

"Right then." He flopped on the couch, finding her eyes in the darkness and giving her a wolfish grin. "Let's see what else we can recreate about our first snow day then."

She smiled as she walked to join him on the sofa, pressing her body against his and finding his lips with her own. "Let's."

###

An hour later, they were snuggled on the sofa under a blanket, Gillian holding a mug of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, while Cal had his spiced apple cider. "A toast," he declared, holding his mug up to Gillian's. "To us."

"To us," she echoed. "And, to snow."

He clinked his mug against hers, smiling at her in the semi darkness. "To snow."


End file.
